


Paper faces

by Sproutings



Category: Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproutings/pseuds/Sproutings
Summary: "They got up a masquerade and had a gay time, New Year's Eve... I enjoyed it very much; and when we unmasked, it was fun to see them stare at me."When Jo march writes to her family and gives them a brief description of New Years, she leaves out some important details that are herewith supplied. Because we all need more parties and ball gowns in books.
Kudos: 3





	Paper faces

Jo liked her little sky parlour at the very top of the boarding house. Earlier in the year, she had farewelled the sun each day as it set behind the Church steeple, and the view gave comfort to her. The rays that the sun threw out seemed to beam in through the windows and wish her sweet dreams. She would imagine that the same rays were reaching into the old brown house in Concord, the grand white mansion beside it, as well as a certain little Dove-cote down the way, and bathing her nearest and dearest with the mellow beams.  
Even now, as the year came to its end, and the sky darkened early in the day, she felt snug and comfy as she tucked herself into a little nook. She drew a knee rug over her lap and, having lit a lamp, she sewed and read intermittently. She had a pile of clothes in a basket beside her, and was happily mending odd holes in her pinafores, and darning the missing patches in her young charges’ dresses that gave evidence of many a cheerful romp and daily adventures.  
As she sewed, her mind wandered. It was New Year’s Eve, and she knew that most of the residents of the boarding house would be attending the masquerade party downstairs. Even from the top of the house, and past the door behind which JO had barricaded herself against the chill, she could hear the music and festivities. The thought of the masquerade recalled in her mind the joyful frolics that she and her sisters had got up when they were younger. How she had loved putting on a costume and a different, grander personality for the evening. How jolly it was to see her sisters forget their cares for a while, and pretend to be someone else – whose burdens were far more romantic, even if more to do with horrid potions and witches, than the simple cares of daily work and ‘grubbing’. How wonderful, how truly wonderful, to hear the applause as she took her bow, and to see the admiration glistening in the audience’s eyes.  
Perhaps Jo felt a little lonely. Perhaps she absolutely always took the finished darning downstairs as soon as it was finished, and was always going to ask good Mrs Kirke if she had anything more for her to do, to keep her occupied.  
Jo knocked on Mrs Kirke’s door. Mrs Kirke opened the door a crack, and poked her head out.  
“Oh thank goodness it’s you, Jo!” Mrs Kirke was always in a bit of a hurry and fluster – and no wonder, with so many children in the shape of grown up boarders. “Please do come in. Excuse the mess, won’t you?”  
Jo didn’t mind the mess at all, but, as Mrs Kirke spoke, she habitually folded some clothes strewn on the bed, sorted some costume jewellery, and straightened out the box of gloves.  
“Jo, I hope I’m not an imposition, but could you please help me fasten this bow?” Jo noticed that Mrs Kirke held her arm behind her, and bounded forward to relieve the lady of her discomfort. The bow was askew, and Jo straightened it then fastened it on to the back of the dress properly. “It oughtn’t take too long, and I don’t want to take any time from you when you aren’t dressed yet – and the party should be starting quite soon.”  
“Not a matter at all. Won’t be going.” Jo said.  
“Why not?” Mrs Kirke asked.  
“The men don’t really like me – can’t blame them either.” Jo couldn’t say that she didn’t like or respect them to Mrs Kirke, so she left it at that.  
Jo had spoken in her natural tones and in her usual, laconic way. She did not want to betray her rather lonely feelings, but, as she was still fastening the ribbon behind Mrs Kirke, the sadness showed in her face.  
Mrs Kirke saw it in the mirror that Jo had not seen, and guessed quite correctly that the young girl who worked so hard during the day, could be rather lonesome in her leisure hours, and particularly at New Years. And so, she thought that Jo should come to the party.  
“Thank you for tying that bow so well. You have a real knack for sewing.”  
“You’re most welcome. My sisters and I used to get up shows, and fixing costumes for ourselves was part of the fun. Stitching bows or making a quiver of arrows, or a ball gown out of a few trinkets was a great amusement then.” Jo said.  
Mrs Kirke was surprised. Although she knew that Jo wrote, she had not thought that Jo’s creativity would extend to acting. Although she understood the girl better than the men in the house did, she also saw a rather haughty young lady, but, unlike the young men, guessed her to be too shy to engage in stage acting. Apart from wanting Jo to have some company on New Years, Mrs Kirke now wanted to see Jo come out of her shell and show herself off to the company. If Jo had known that there were plans to ‘show her off’ she’d have crept back further into her shell of abrupt speech, and would have burrowed far down into a chair in her parlour. Mrs Kirke was quite wise enough to understand this.  
“If you have a knack for costumes and acting, you really should come to the party. You would really help to both lighten the atmosphere, with your clever way of talking, and help me to chaperone if anyone gets at all rowdy – which they shouldn’t. Always better to be prepared though.”   
Jo was a modest personage, but not immune to flattery.  
Mrs Kirke, safely ensconced in her own costume, took Jo’s hand, and guided her toward a big chest. “If you would, have a look through here, and bring out any costume you think might suit. There are brocades and ball gowns, and some other vintage pieces. Why, I wore that the night that I met Mr Kirke!”  
With Mrs Kirke reminiscing, and lending a dash of romance to the old fabrics, Jo feel in with the plan to go to the party. She found a pair of funny little buckled heeled slippers, and rummaged until she drew out a blue and red brocade. The colours were rather garish, but gave Jo the idea of dressing as Mrs Malaprop. Mrs Kirke excused herself, saying that she had to go to review the festivities. This gave Jo a chance to dress herself in the elaborate robe, and to slide on the shoes over her warm stockings. Jo smiled at the contrast of courtly dress and black, woollen stockings.  
Mrs Kirke knocked on the door, and came in. Behind her was Miss Norton who held a bundle of laces and feathers, a fan, and a mask. Jo was all gratitude as she accepted these loans, and the ladies laughed as they piled the goods upon Jo’s shoulders, and slid the fan’s loop over Jo’s gloved wrist.  
Jo could still see one thing missing. Her Mrs Malaprop was rightly rigged up – definitely over-the-top, a dramatic vision in red and blue silk, lace at her shoulders and breast, and a huge purple bow tied around her waist. Somehow, the colours all came together, and Jo was both a humorous spectacle and an elegant vision. Jo remembered Amy’s advice from long ago, and let her skirts trail behind her in the most elegant way possible, and she smiled at the tall person in the mirror who did not slouch. Looking at her small head in the mirror, Jo realised that her hair needed to be magnified to suit the costume.  
Miss Norton and Mrs Kirke left Jo to finish her costume, and let Jo alone in Mrs Kirke’s room again, to ruminate on her hair, and how to achieve a pompadour worthy of Mrs Malaprop.  
The waifish cut that was the result of her sacrifice for her mother and father had grown out, and Jo once again had a handsome head of hair. Usually, it was bundled into a smooth chignon at the nape of her neck. Jo took out the numerous pins, the hairnet, and brushed the chestnut locks out with her fingers.   
Mrs Kirke had given her leave to look through the chest, so Jo buried herself in it – with some difficulty, considering the sleeves – to find inspiration. Coming up for air, she clung to a box of powders, a box of bejewelled hair pins, and an old corset with the wires sadly springing out.  
Jo set to her task with relish. She bent the wires and constructed a small, cage-like shape. Over this, she folded a piece of grey fabric that would blend in nicely with her hair colour. Setting the wire construction on her head and fastening it there was more difficult than fastening the bow on Mrs Kirke’s dress, but Jo – with characteristic creativity, and stubbornness – achieved it. She then fell to the task of teasing out her hair. With a brush in one hand, and a thick of strand of hair in the other, she grimaced as she turned her smooth hair into a puff. Using about a thousand hair pins, she covered the wire with her hair. With the wire covered as thoroughly as possible, Jo powdered the whole thing until it was the once-coveted shade of ash grey. Using one mirror in front of her, and one behind, she found and covered any small holes with the tiny, jewelled pins.   
The effect took her breath away. Although her hair was not in curls, she had created a stunning look. Not liking to gawk at herself in the mirror any more than she had already done, Jo used a small palette to put some colourful touches to her face, and tied Miss Norton’s mask to her face. She whisked herself downstairs, for she knew that she had already exceeded the hour of being fashionably late.  
Once she had run down the flights of stairs, she stopped at the suddenly louder rumble of jolly voices. She straightened her dress – and the wire headdress – and reminded herself: “You’re just playing a part tonight, old girl. You’re Mrs Malaprop – a humourous aunt, causing a bit of mischief and mayhem, yet looking courtly and grand, and knowing it, too. I will be the pineapple of politeness.”  
With this, Jo sailed in. Young Mr Burns turned to look at the new arrival and… well, he didn’t gasp, as everyone did when Cinderella arrived at the ball. But he was terribly impressed by the stately, fashionable young belle, who evidently had a bit of fun in her by the look of her costume.   
Jo was often slouching – being taller than her female friends. Even among men, like those of Teddy’s Own, Jo would slouch, because she fell in so easily with their mannerisms. Now, she remembered to hold herself straight – otherwise her magnificent headpiece would have fallen or at least tilted. With her powdered and bejewelled hair curled on top of her head, she towered over nearly everyone in the room, and caught everybody’s eye.  
Mrs Kirke smiled as she saw Jo turning heads. She and Miss Norton, Professor Bhaer and Tina all recognised her, although they were surprised by what they saw. Men that Jo dined with, when she had the courage to go to dinner downstairs, didn’t know who had invited this stranger to the party, but were glad that they had. For once this Mrs Malaprop caught the eye with her loud colours, and aristocratic grace, they heartily enjoyed talking and trying to match her wit.  
Jo thought the joke a good one, as so many people didn’t know who she was. She and the professor shared a knowing smile as Mr Burns tried to find out the true name of this mystery guest. When he slipped into the dangerous waters of flirting, Jo instantly quenched by shutting her fan and tapping it firmly but lightly on the man’s shoulder, saying, “La! If you carry on sir in such a fusion, I will have hydrostatics!” Then she carried herself, her fan, her voluminous dress and head piece away from the silly young man.  
Later, she heard Mr Burns say ruefully to a friend of his that “That tall lady put me in my place, good and proper! I guess that I’m not really up to the standard of a good actress like her. I’d need another foot just be her height. I remember, I’m sure, seeing her in a play I went to just last week.”   
It was an odd sort of compliment, but Jo took the best parts of it, forgot the rest, and hid her face in her face to laugh it over.  
Later, when Mrs Kirke announced the unmasking with anticipation, they stood in a large circle, so that everybody would be able to see and shout at everybody’s disguises and their varied success.  
Jo enjoyed watching Don Quixote show himself to be Mr Minnow, the man who sold shoes in a tiny shop two streets away; Professor Bhaer bashfully took off his mask, although everybody knew the German accent and kind humour belonged to the professor and not to Nick Bottom; Mrs Kirke showed herself to be every bit the angel that she had dressed herself up as; and Miss Norton took off her mask to show herself as good Queen Bess. Mr Burns had dressed as the king from a chess set, and their majesties made their bows and curtsies to each other.  
Because it had caught in her hair, and because her fingers trembled a little, someone had to climb onto a chair to untie it for her. Jo’s nervousness gone due to the good-natured laughter around her, she boldly took her mask off and lifted her head with a flourish. She grinned, because now she was received with a collective gasp. Then somebody pounded her on the shoulder and said “Good show!” and the room actually applauded. Jo just stood and grinned at the crowd and felt it was a jolly good thing that New Years party could happen no more than once a year.


End file.
